


Poor Unfortunate Souls

by TheHatterWrites



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Beej goes to therapy, Dead People, Drugs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, LGBTQ Character, Redemption, Slow Burn, Therapy, because Beej is just a perv like that, musical verse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:55:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24343876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHatterWrites/pseuds/TheHatterWrites
Summary: With Juno gone, and after he scared away most of the therapists of the Netherworld, management tries another approach to reform Beetlejuice.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33





	1. You can bring a horse to water

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks for Blu_e907, LivingSol and roachcoke, they have been helping me a lot as Beta Readers cuz english is still not my best language...

The air felt heavy around her, a warm and damp mist made of moss and the smell of rot. The Netherworld always had this ambiance of old and abandoned things, be it the buildings that stretched in nonlinear ways as far as the eye could see or the people who populated this putrid world. She got used to it, after centuries of being here, the things that died on the surface always ended up down here and that included architecture and fashion trends. Which explained how sometimes the buildings appeared to update themselves, but still gave the feel of being long gone and forgotten. She was quite indifferent toward this, really, but she did find it quite annoying how everything must be crooked in some way. There was never a straight hallway or door frame, and it sometimes made it quite uncomfortable to even enter a room and having to crouch because the ceiling decided to push the top of the doorframe on only one side.

It was quite frustrating, but she got used to it.

The soft clicks of her boots against the marble floor echoed through this very twisted hallway, the sounds of wails and moans coming from behind each crooked door she passed by. Sounds from recently deceased souls who were just learning the state in which they were dead. Or maybe souls who were just itching to get out of this horrid place, trying and failing to negotiate a shorter sentence with their case workers. She couldn't blame them, the after life was tedious, boring and torturous at times, but they certainly could have it worse.

They could end up like her.

Or the nervous wreck walking right next to her.

Such a _small_ thing, really. She could easily step on her if she was not paying attention, but it was quite difficult to not notice her with quick hand movements all over the place, constant ramblings about how things are fine and her fast small steps making her heels tap on the floor, sounding like some kind of typewriter machine. Following a quick invisible beat that she could only assume was the very own nervous heartbeat of this small woman.

Goodness gracious, she knew she was taller than average, but dear lord - even in those heels she was like a jittery mouse on caffeine. Small, almost doll-like, and really trying to make an effort to keep up with her pace. Being taller had its perks, after all. And one of those included longer legs to take bigger steps. A normal step for her was around three fast paced steps for the petite woman and even as she consciously tried to be slower to somewhat calm this woman down, she couldn’t help but chuckle internally at the enormous amount of effort this person was making to keep up with her.

"... I mean _sure_ , Stephen's promotion was out of the blue, and with Juno gone, the whole system is pretty much going down the drain..."

She continued on rambling the same story again, like a broken record, for like the third time. She had stopped listening about fifteen doors ago, but made a sound of understanding, out of courtesy, and opted to ignore how she indiscreetly took out a flask out of the inside pocket of her blazer and took a quick swing of whatever liquor it held every six doors. An alcoholic working here? That was new, but she couldn't really judge her, there were a lot of ghost workers out there who had their own addictions.

"... but hey! We are making some progress! We managed to get a hold of some more counselors for the bigger trouble makers, and some more case workers too! We _totally_ have this under control."

"I see..."

Once they finally reached the main office, the smaller lady in the modern pencil skirt fumbled with the door handle and pushed the old big doors with little to no avail. This little thing was just bones and no muscle. Taking pity of her, she sighed and pushed the door with ease, the petite woman laughed nervously and muttered a small thanks under her breath. This old office used to be filled with smoke to the brim, she has been here before but that was a long time ago, with old furniture that appeared to break if you ever touched it and the few occasional recently deceased waiting for Juno's advice and command. Now, it was almost empty, the old furniture was gone and replaced with some more modern looking ones, and the smell of smoke still lingered, but the big signature desk and chair were still there. With several stacks of papers that comically almost reached the roof and that one man in a tacky looking suit sitting behind the mountains of papers.

"Stephen, she's here!"

Said man almost jumped out of his skin the moment she spoke, but regained his composure quickly to make it apparent that he knew that small fact. "Great! Thank you, Diane." He coughed into his hand, clearing his throat, and then gestured to the chair in front of his desk. "Miss Phlox, please take a seat."

She sat on the uncomfortably small chair, grabbing her skirts and pushing them to the front so they don't bunch and wrinkle on the back, and straightened her back to stand as tall as she could. Which was an easy task to accomplish, for she could easily tower over this man even if she was sitting on a chair that was not designed in any way to hold a woman of her size. He also tried to display his dominance in the room by sitting straight, but he was certainly not the biggest man around the Netherworld, and he looked so out of place in that big office chair, like a little kid playing pretend in his father's workplace. She stared down at him for a second, trying to read his tired looking eyes - after finding nothing, she finally sighed.

"Okay, I am here. What seems to be the problem?"

" _Problem?_ Oh Marian, can't we just ask you to come down here to chat?" He chuckled with confidence, a stark contrast to his hand fidgeting nervously. "You and the other nurses are always working! We just want to see how you guys are holding on with the new management change, that's all."

She squinted her eyes, staring at him with suspicion. That could not be the case, it _never_ was. "Things are... fine." She noticed how Diane was fixing some kind of beverage, probably alcoholic, on one of the corners of the office. Filling two glasses to the rim, taking a not-so-discreet swing straight from the bottle herself and arranging them on a tray.

"The numbers of recovering Wailing Souls are the same as usual, and we keep the problematic ones at bay, like always... but you would know that if you read the reports you guys _insist_ on sending over." 

The petite woman offered her one of the glasses she prepared, he took one and she dismissed hers with a wave. 

"So could you please tell me, _what_ is really going on?"

He took a sip of whatever alcohol that was in the glass and set it on the table with a dramatic thud. Spinning his chair dramatically to face the big window that made the back wall of the office, staring down the neon signs and the dirty streets that made up the Netherworld. "Miss Phlox, do you know what happened to Juno?"

Marian sighted, was he really playing this game? She had no time for this! "Yes, as far as I know, she was eaten by a sandworm a few months ago."

"Yes, yes, that did happen." He spined the chair back to face her, "But do you know _who_ was the one who caused it?"

She pressed her lips together rather tightly, has the power gotten to his head? What was next? A monologue? "Was it not her son? The one she hated with all her being? Half of the Netherworld saw that one coming."

"Yes! It was _him_." He rose from his chair, pushing it backwards and walking around his desk. "Right after he pulled a mortal marriage stunt!" He stood right in front of her, leaning on his desk and continuing to nurse his drink.

Well, that she didn't know, she heard rumors about the showdown between the mother and son, but didn't know the reasons behind said battle. Marriage between a ghost and breather was probably the most taboo thing to do in the Netherworld, it not only granted you another chance to be alive but also another chance to _die_. Which granted you a bigger punishment in the afterlife, and just a bigger pain in the ass for management to sort out. Not only that, but it was really hard to convince a living person to marry you out of their own free will, let alone get one who can see ghosts and demons. And Juno's boy did that all on his own? She was kind of impressed, it took guts and brains to pull off all that kind of work, he must be some kind of manipulating genius.

"Okay, but that does not explain why I am here."

"Oh, the thing is... he died."

"Again! After, like, five minutes!" Diane added, gaining a glare from her boss.

Scratch that, he was no manipulating genius if he was killed after five minutes, he was the one who got _played._

"Still, elaborate."

He took a bigger sip of his drink, "See, the thing is he died again. That makes him part of the recently deceased, which makes _him_ our problem." He glanced at the piles of paperwork on his desk, "Usually, we wouldn't care much what happens to someone who died twice. He already knows the Netherworld, and he can just return to whatever he did before he was breathing again. Now that I’m in charge, and making some much needed changes to the management of this place, it was decided to give him the recently deceased treatment as if he had never been dead before."

"And?"

"You know how it is for newly-deads, they have a small counseling, a punishment for the things they did when they were alive, some optional therapy here and there to let them cope and not turn into wailing souls." She nodded, knowing the system after working for it for the past centuries. It wasn't a perfect system, but it did help some souls find peace and move on. Gesturing with her hand, she encouraged him to continue. "And after that, the right to choose what to do with theirs souls, to either pass on or stay to become part of our staff to help the recently deceased pass through the same process-"

"Or, they can turn into demons and become freelancers." Diane chipped in again, wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her blazer after chugging down the drink she rejected earlier.

Stephen shot her another dirty look, " _Yes,_ that too." She shifted under his harsh glare and proceeded to distract herself with some of the papers on his desk.

"But with the new system, we’re not making counseling or therapy optional like before!" He sounded proud, talking as if this was his very own passion project and not a direct order from the higher ups. "We are trying to keep the demon population down because of the all time high demon overpopulation and promoting more on the option to reach peace and pass on! The demon population goes down, and so do the Wailing Souls, so we here in management get to have less political problems with the deceased on the surface. Problem solved!"

She bit her lip, it was kind of hard to fight with that logic. Demons have always been some of the most problematic beings in the Netherworld, causing chaos and annoyance to the management for the things they did that ended up on the surface. They also had a tendency to kill, which meant more ghosts, and more people for management to sort out. And it would be nice to have less Wailing Souls rumbling in the hospital and making her afterlife a more complicated mess. But that did not explain why she was called here, or why he was bringing Juno's boy into the conversation. So, if he was now a newly-dead again, does that mean that...

"... he's not a demon anymore?"

"Eehm... sort of?" His hand reached the bridge of his nose and massaged it, trying to relieve some tension. "He was a demon for millenia, one of the oldest, so regaining his life should have made him completely human but I guess that because he lived for such a short period it didn't take all his powers away..."

He swirled the remaining ice in his now empty glass, looking rather frustrated with this whole situation and signaling Diane to refill his drink. She rolled her eyes, alcohol didn't do much for their emotional state and they knew it. It took at least the amount a normal breather would drink to get absolutely plastered for a deceased to even start to get tipsy. But bad habits die hard, even in the afterlife, and from the not-so-discreet actions from the small secretary, she could guess that Diane was inching to get to that state as constantly as she could.

If she still chased that high, she could not have been dead for that long.

"So now I have a recently deceased with the experience of a _millennia_ old demon and the manpower of at least ten poltergeists." He whined, extending his arm to the side so his secretary could reach his glass with ease. "Which is not that strong compared to a demon, but enough to cause a ruckus and scare away every single counselor and therapist I have assigned for him in the past four months…..at this point, I'm  _ this  _ close to just feeding him to the nearest sandworm available!"

Marian tapped her fingers against her knee, scanning his frustrated face and trying to make a connection between the most recent scandal from Juno's son to her being called here. She found none but one, one she really hoped wasn't the case. Because if it was what she was thinking, _she_ would gladly be the one to be eaten by the sandworm. There was no way...

"So I was thinking..."

"No."

"You didn't even let me finish!"

She rose from the chair quickly, tugging on her skirts to free them from being stuck on the nooks of it. "I can see where this is going, and frankly, I do not wish to get involved." She looked down on him, easily beating him in height for almost half a foot. "I am a nurse for Wailing Souls, not a babysitter for a troubled demon man-child."

"Nurses, therapists, counselors, they are all the same!" He blew a raspberry and walked away from her, back into his seat behind the desk. "You are all here to help souls reach a state of peace and move on! And yes, the therapists and counselors didn't work on him, but we haven't tried a nurse yet!" With his feet, he made the chair swing to face the window again. Extending his arms into the air and exhaling, "Just imagine how easy it will be if you use your emotional powers on him to reach peace!"

"You do realise our powers are meant for _Wailing Souls_ only, right?" She retorted with a serious tone, making her left eyelid twitch. Did he want her fired? To be stripped of her position? To end up in the streets of the Netherworld with no purpose? "Beings so full of grief that they almost lack any emotion. It is strictly forbidden for a nurse to use their powers outside of the hospital!"

His chair turned back for him to face her again slowly, "Do you think I'm _stupid?_ Of course I know that!" He slammed his drink into the table and shuffled around some papers on his desk, mumbling a string of curses under his breath as he was searching for something, only to be stopped as Diane handed him a couple of papers and a thick file. He snached them out of her grasp with frustration and muttered an embarrassed 'thanks' as she sneakily took his half-full glass out of the way. Drinking it quickly as he spoke, "I managed to get permission from the higher ups, don’t ask how I managed to pull those strings, cause now they’re _gone_. This is my last option."

He flipped through the file and pulled out a paper with stapled pictures and a bunch of post-its on it, handing it over to her with the least amount of care in the world. The paper was older, written in faded ink with a handwriting that was almost illegible, with stains of unknown origin and a distinct smell that this piece of paper was slowly molding away in some dark cabinet for at least a century. The post-its were new, of different shapes and colors with different handwritings each explaining and translating what the original paper used to say. And finally the distinctive piece that defined the paper, a picture of Juno's son. The demon himself, the self proclaimed ghost with the most, the first freelance bio-exorcist and the only one who ever managed to get under Juno's skin.

A sigh escaped her lips, she could already feel the dread and exhaustion this was going to bring to her.

"Can you make someone else do this? Why does it have to be me?"

"Well..." he started, stuffing the file with the rest of the papers in his hand and sliding it over to her over his messy desk. "We could, but this being the only chance the higher ups are going to give me I thought we could go all out and use the most experienced nurse out there to deal with him."

"I am not the oldest nurse out there," she snapped back, taking the file from the desk and placing the post-it infested paper back in there. "In fact, I am certain that he has been dead far _longer_ than I have."

He raised his hands in defense, "I never said the oldest, Marian! I said the most _experienced_." He clicked his tongue at the last syllable and smiled when she rolled her eyes, "You have a record of dealing with the toughest cases of Wailing Souls, you have made them do a full recovery!"

"Yes, but those are Wailing Souls! This is a _demon!_ "

" _Ex_ -demon!"

"It is _not_ the same thing!"

She plopped back down into the small chair with a huff, ignoring how uncomfortable the bunching up of her skirts got around her thighs for the lack of space between them and armrests.

"Look, look..." Stephen sighted, rubbing his temples and pausing for a second. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, repeating this process twice to calm himself. "I... I know I'm asking for too much Miss Phlox, but I'm at the end of my rope here..." He looked sincere here, tired, frustrated and pathetic. She glanced at his secretary who also looked as tired and pathetic as him, but mainly because she just noticed her flask was empty. "I need to take him out of the system, but they won't let me until he makes some kind of recovery. I don't need you to break him down and reconstruct him into the perfect model Netherworld citizen, I just need him to make the least amount of change that will prove that he will never try to pull this kind of stunt again and he will be out of our hair forever..."

Marian shifted on the uncomfortable small seat, staring with disgust and discomfort at the thick file. Technically speaking, she could refuse this assignment, drop this load to the next best nurse and continue to live her mundane and repetitive afterlife helping souls at the hospital. Which, as boring as it sounds, wasn't as bad as it seemed. She enjoyed working there, she found her purpose centuries ago and was perfectly content helping those who needed her. But then again, this was a request with the blessing and permission of the higher ups. Refusing could be career suicide, her title as one of the best nurses in the Netherworld could be tainted, and after centuries of maintaining that image, it could all go down the drain for refusing this one challenge. And she had to admit that, in theory, it did sound exciting. To reform a demon through emotional therapy? Unheard of! Recently deceased could get normal therapy and counseling, even the toughest cases were simply dismissed as lost causes and let go. But she guessed with the new system, that could not be the case anymore. Everyone had to get some kind of therapy now, and the ones who refused it the most needed a different method to deal with their issues.

She took a deep breath - not that she needed to breathe, but it did help her clear her mind, and exhaled slowly through her mouth.

"When can I start?"

The light that returned to Stephen's eyes almost gave the impression that he was alive, "Really?! I-I mean-" He coughed into his hand and regained his composure. "You can start next week! I'll get you your own office and a couple of guards to keep him at bay-"

"I will start tomorrow, and I do not need an office. But I will need a room with the least amount of furniture and windows, and that is as far away as possible from the rest of the populated areas around this building." She interrupted, making him nod in agreement with every word that came out of her mouth and signaling Diane to write everything down. The poor woman had to gather her bearings, scrambling her feet to reach for her clipboard and writing frantically each order. "You can give me guards, but only for the beginning and end of each session. During which, I want the whole floor evacuated, move the guards to the elevator to prevent people from coming in. If I am to use my powers, he will be the only one to be affected by them, I want _no_ casualties."

"Yes, yes, of course. We can take those measures."

"I would also like to have some tea during the sessions, some snacks too if you will. I like hibiscus, but I do not know his preference so bring a couple of boxes of whatever you got in storage."

"O-okay, we can do that."

"Another important thing that we will need is tissues, a lot of them. Maybe not for the first session, but after that those will come in handy."

"Sure thing!"

"And another thing," She licked her lips, eyeing the cursed file in her lap. Her stomach turned and churned with discomfort just thinking about what was about to come. "Do you have any failsafe to rely on if this does not work?"

Stephen stared at her, the previous light of hope dying slowly in his eyes, he slipped his finger through one of the sides of the many stacks of papers that accumulated on his desk. His secretary stopped scribbling on her clip board and swallowed, her eyes shifting nervously between the two of them and her hand reached instinctively for the empty flask on her inside pocket.

"No."

Closing her eyes tightly, she grinded her teeth and clenched her fists. That was not the answer she wanted to hear, but it was the one she knew that was coming.

"I know I'm putting all my eggs in a basket here, but let's keep our hopes up!" He rose from his seat and walked over to her once again. "Miss Phlox, I'm really hoping that we can make a breakthrough together!"

He took her hand between his and shook hers with enthusiasm. She could only manage to give him a pained smile and a look that screamed help towards the secretary, Diane smiled awkwardly from behind the desk giving them two thumbs up.

"You'll see!" Stephen smiled, continuing to shake her hand. "The whole Netherworld will know you as Marian Phlox! The nurse that reformed Beetlejuice!"


	2. Not my cup of tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [LivingSol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivingSol/pseuds/LivingSol) and to [Blu_e907](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blu_e907/pseuds/Blu_e907) for helping me on this chapter! You guys are such life savers!

"Fellas, I get it. You got me, I have been captured! I am your prisoner, I surrender, I have literally no way to escape."

A loud ding sounded, indicating that the elevator had arrived on their floor. The automatic doors squeaked and creaked as they opened slowly with janky effort, this old thing has seen better days- or maybe it hasn't. As far as he can remember, that old metal box has always been a death trap waiting to fall apart with the right person inside of it. But then again, he does remember a time when that thing wasn't even installed on this building and all they had was stairs, horrible never-ending stairs. So maybe it was always meant to be this horrid piece of junk that induced panic and stress to whoever rode it.

"I don't think it’s necessary to keep me like this." He wriggled his arms, trying to free them from the hard grasp of the current guards that boxed him to his sides. "I'm _already_ going! There's no need to be violent!"

"Say that to the other eight guards who are unconscious on the floor." The tall man to his left snarled between his teeth, gripping his arm tighter.

Beetlejuice shrugged cheekily, "They asked for a fight, I complied."

As a response he was thrown face first into the inner wall of the elevator, he groaned in pain, dropping to his knees and holding his nose to check for any damage the impact may have caused. The two taller men followed suit as he continued to wail in pain, not that the collision actually hurt much but he did it to gain the attention of the curious newly deads that waited to be attended to in the lobby. Which worked, like always, as he could hear the whispers of shock and disbelief they spoke between themselves, he did _love_ to cause a scene. And before the doors closed completely, he did try to make a run for it, one last hurrah to escape. Show this system that even with one third of his power, he was still the ghost with the most, and try to impress his newest audience. But the guards beat him to it, grabbing him by the arms yet again before he could sprint to the safety of the lobby and pouting as the doors finally closed in front of his face.

The guard to his right pressed one of the many buttons that clutter the messy panel with his big sausage finger. Geez, do they always choose the big brutes to be guards in the Netherworld? Talk about stereotyping. But he did notice something different.

"Hey, that's not my floor."

"They got you a new person." He snapped back, clearly trying to kill any upcoming conversation that may be blooming.

Bushy green eyebrow raised in amusement, he could play this game. "Oh, so _Katie_ quit? Tch, such a shame, I was starting to like her."

"Her name is Sadie."

"Yes, I'll miss _Sandy_. She was nice, had a horrible bullet hole on her eye tho'."

"Sadie. Her name is _Sadie_."

"I asked her, 'Hey _Sammy_ , has anyone ever fingered that hole on your face before? If not, can I be the first one to stick my finger in it? It will not be sexual, I promise.'"

"I told you her name is-" He interrupted himself, breathing in deeply as he closed his eyes. He let the breath escape and he continued between clenched teeth, "I will not humor you, demon."

He clicked his tongue, "Well, you are no fun."

Right guard huffed through his nose and glared at the control panel, really trying to ignore him and tightening his hold of his arm. If he were still a demon, their hold on him wouldn't be enough to keep him in check. Ten guards? Piece of cake, he could have had them all out cold on the floor in _seconds_ , a snap of his fingers and all of them would have wished they hadn't made the afterlife choice of working here. He may have gotten a bit used to having unlimited powers over the decades, who wouldn't? Why even bother to fight someone with his bare fists when he can just summon tentacles or other demonic beings to do his bidding? So maybe he got a bit rusty on his fighting skills, nothing a couple of bar fights can't fix, but that didn't solve his lack of powers situation.

Which was the main reason why his lip was still busted, why every bone in his body ached in pain and the fact that it took him more than twenty minutes to beat the shit out of eight of the ten guards they sent after him for his weekly therapy session. No powers meant no stamina, no clones to back him up, no quick healing abilities and no super strength to lift these goons off him and escape out of this hellish building. Really, if he knew marrying Lydia was gonna chop his powers in half and leave him with the more shitty ones he would have seriously reconsidered doing it in the first place.

_Reconsider it_ , but he would have done it anyways.

The elevator shook with every floor it reached, lights blinking every few seconds, this place was a real shit hole. Not only was there almost no space for three grown ass ghosts to fit in here, the smell and the lack of air circulation made him feel claustrophobic. As if the walls were gonna close on him slowly and he was about to get squished between these two larger men. That... didn't sound so bad, actually. But still, he’d rather be anywhere else, preferably sandwiched between two larger naked men, than be here! Sandwiched between two larger, fully clothed men who he just lost to in a fight and who probably really hated his guts. Right guard was really trying to ignore his existence by staring at the ceiling and giving him the occasional arm squeeze to keep him from moving too much, and the left guard kept giving him the side eye. Glaring at him from the corner of his eye, the kind of murdering stare someone would give him if he owed them money, or if he had killed one of their loved ones.

Beetlejuice licked the wound on his lip, "Umm, do... Do I know you or something?"

Left guard's glare squinted hard, "You _don't_."

"Then to what do I owe the pleasure of your dirty looks?" He taunted, shaking his shoulders rhythmically. "Seriously, did I kill your dad and now you want to avenge him or some shit like that? 'Cuz you wouldn't be the first-"

"My husband," Left spat out with venom in his voice. "You _do_ know him."

"Oh, so it's more of an avenge your spouse situation-"

"You pissed on him."

That frase actually caught him off guard, "... _What?_ " 

With wide eyes and mouth hanging, the greasy man in the pinstripe suit could not believe a man with such a stoic face could pronounce that phrase with that tone of seriousness. He stared at him for a few seconds, waiting for some kind of punchline, or even a backtrack from Left Guard to say that he was joking or that he messed up that sentence. But he kept on with his harsh glare on Beetlejuice, this man was not messing with him.

"Look man, I know I have done some seriously messed up and gross things but I wouldn't just piss on someone unless- oh..."

It suddenly clicked.

A small snort escaped through his nose, prompting Left to grip his arm with more strength and Right to roll his eyes. He did try to hold it in, biting into his bruised lip to hold the giggles that have started to accumulate, letting a few escape unintentionally as his entire body started to vibrate in the effort of keeping his cool. They haven't even reached their destination floor yet, he was already pretty beaten and worn out from the previous fight, and the small space were clear signs to not fan the flames and start another fight.

But the laughter got the best of him, and if it wasn't for the fact that these two brutes were holding him up by the arms he would have been twisting on the floor with laughter.

"That-that little twink bitch is _your_ husband?!" Beetlejuice almost screamed between laughs, throwing his head back and banging it against the elevator wall a couple of times. Right groaned with discomfort, pressing their floor button again and again as if that would make this old slow elevator go faster as Left looked like he was about to punch him again.

The laughs decreased, devolving into chuckles as he tried to wipe the tears that started to form in the corner of his right eye with his shoulder. "Oh great Satan, you just made my day! Not gonna lie, but your hubby was one kinky whore."

Left growled, like actually growled at him, like an animal. Showing his pointy yellow teeth and getting really close to his face. "How could you just do _that?!"_

"He asked for it." He replied nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders and letting the last few giggles leave his body. Left just growled louder this time, closing the small gap between their faces and pressing his nose against his. "No, for real, he _asked_ for it. Offered me a lot of beer and the whole thing. I'm usually not the watersports kind of guy, but hey, a willing hole and free booze are kinda hard to turn down." He said as a wide smile started to form in his face, showing the guard his very own set of pointy yellow pearls.

"Cuck."

A soft short ding was heard, indicating the elevator had arrived on the selected floor and the old metal doors opened uncharacteristically faster than when they boarded. So Beetlejuice really didn't have the time to process when the Left Guard snached him out of Right Guard grip and threw him into the empty hallway. He smashed into a decorative pillar and landed a few feet away from the elevador, skimming his face on the rug. As he wobbly tried, and failed, to get to all fours he muttered some colorful insults towards Left and was grabbed, yet again, by his arms and moved him around like a rag doll.

He didn't bother to protest again and just let them take him to wherever they wanted. If this new person was like the other five therapists they assigned to him, he could scare them away in three sessions, two if he wasn't feeling lazy. They all talked about the same things, his addictions, his relationship with his mother, his murderous rampages, his attempt to be alive again. It was the same story! He knew they all read his file to any previous session, so they all thought they could be the ones to crack him open just because they knew some bits and pieces of his sob story. All it took was to talk a bit about his horrible childhood, turn the tables around and get them to talk a bit about themselves and find a weakness. Once he identified it, he could use that to his advantage and attack them with their own words. It was manipulative, _yes_ , it was also a _really_ low blow but he didn't need therapy. He wasn't supposed to be here.

He just wanted his powers back. To be back to normal.

But fucking Stevie, or whatever that new jerkoffs name was, told him he couldn't even tell him how to get his powers back until he left the system. Which was total horse shit, he never went into the system when he died for the first time, and he became a demon in no time! And he was not, by any chance, the first demon who attempted a mortal marriage, there were many before him who also ended up dead twice and just went on with their afterlife being demons again! So why was he the exception? Why didn't they just let him go after clearly making himself a name between the Netherworld’s therapists as the worst possible patient?

They couldn't even explain why he was stronger than an average newly dead if he wasn't a demon anymore.

Finally, they reached the end of the hallway and Right opened the big wooden doors, not even knocking, and made themselves known by announcing that the demon was here. Beetlejuice thought about correcting him, to antagonize him one more time and just cause another small ruckus in front of his new therapist, but bit his own tongue. It was better if they still believed that he was a demon, the less they knew the better.

"Good, so you must be Beetle-"

The large woman sitting on the couch opposite of the entrance stared at him, blinking a couple of times before sighing and reaching for the leather bag that was by her feet.

"Must you bring him to me all beaten and bruised like this?" She asked as she continued to search for something in her bag, making a gesture with her hand for them to lift their hold on him. "This cannot be up to _code_."

She was tall, like really tall, even if she was sitting down. A large curvaceous woman with tired features who must have had died in her early forties, wearing an old white victorian hospital uniform which could only mean...

"A nurse..."

He felt the grip on his arms disappear as those words left his lips, dumbfounded for a second and trying to process the situation in his brain as fast as he could before the guards turned around and hightailed to leave.

"You got me a _fucking_ nurse?!"

The doors closed behind him with a loud bang before he could even try to reach for them. Banging his fists against the wood and trying to shake the handles open, he screamed for the guards to come back and explain why in hell's name his new supposed "therapist" wasn't an actual therapist. But the doors wouldn't budge and he could hear the fast paced footsteps of the two large men fading away, leaving him alone in a rather empty room with the nurse.

"You may scream all you want, nobody will hear you. The entire floor has been evacuated for our session."

He almost jumped out of his dirty pinstripe suit as he heard her monotone voice right above him. Jesus, for somebody as big as her she was really silent.

"Oh, really?" He replied, regaining his bearings before she could notice she actually surprised him. "Better make the best of it, are you a _screamer_ yourself , sweet-cheeks?"

She cocked her head to the side, as if she didn't understand his double meaning sentence and sighed again. The woman extended her arm and offered him a small metal container with a floral pattern on the lid, "For your wounds."

Confused, but mostly just suspicious of her actions he took the container out of her hand. A miniscule, pleased smile appeared on her face for a second before it turned back into that neutral poker face she had before and she returned to her seat on the couch, beckoning him to sit on the opposite one from her. He didn't follow, opting to just stand there and watch her reach for a tea cup on the small coffee table in between the two couches, she brought it to her lips and took a sip out of it. 

The room was filled with an uncomfortable silence, and if she noticed it she wasn't bothered by it. This office was really empty, lacking the usual bookcases, desks, cabinets and tacky artworks he has seen for the past four months. There were only two couches right in front of each other, a coffee table in between them and a lonely wardrobe far away from the rest of the central furniture. And she just sat there, all high and mighty, sipping on whatever hot leaf liquid the cup held as she read some ratty looking pages from what he guessed was his damned file. She didn't talk, didn't order him to sit down or asked him to start telling her his life story. She waited patiently for him to make the next move.

“Tea?” The nurse asked, after he stood in the same place for a couple of minutes. Fiddling with the metal thing in his hands, not really knowing what to do next or how to escape out of this situation.

“Yeah I... I don’t like tea.”

She hummed, taking another sip of her drink. “Noted, we also have a small array of cookies and snacks. So help yourself.”

She wasn’t that threatening, just a big serious looking woman with absolutely no way to defend herself if he chose to fight his way out of here. But then again, she was a nurse, and those ladies were rumored to hold some powers that could drive even the strongest of demons straight into insanity. Good thing they worked like a nunnery, keeping all their secrets and powers concealed into their precious hospital and swearing to never use said powers against ghosts other than their patients.

So, for now the plan was to lay low...

He popped the lid off the metal thing as he let his weight drop on the couch and a strong minty smell attacked his nostrils. Gagging, he dipped his finger into the greasy substance he guessed was some kind of ointment and spread it on his bruised lip. The relief wasn't instant, it did soothe his constant need to keep licking the cut, but that tingly feeling was familiar in the weirdest of deja-vus. Inspecting the container for a list of ingredients or something to explain what exactly this was, he found nothing but a small inscription engraved to the bottom of it.

Oh.

Well _that_ changes the game quite quickly.

"A'right, sooo..." He started, returning the lid to the container and closing it between his fingers with a satisfying snap. "You're the new therapist?"

"I am not a therapist." She placed her cup back into the table, returning the pages she was reading into the file. "I am Nurse Phlox, management has assigned me to give you, Beetlejuice, emotional therapy."

"Emotional therapy? What am I? A Wailing Soul?"

He has heard of how they treated Wailing Souls in the hospital, nobody but nurses and recovering souls were allowed to be near that building. Saying it was too dangerous for any ghost to be near a working nurse in the middle of emotional therapy, one's emotions could go off the rails and go insane. To be completely honest he was just never curious about the hospital, that place was way too depressing, with all those Wailing Souls crawling around the place with their vacant eyes and inability to even emote, a husk of what was once a person. There was nothing sadder than a ghost who was so filled with so much grief from their death that they lost their identity and their purpose in the afterlife, doing absolutely nothing and feeling no emotion whatsoever.

So why in the name of Satan was he assigned a treatment that was only reserved to the most pathetic kind of ghosts?

"You are certainly not." Phlox replied, reaching for her leather bag yet again and taking out a clipboard and a quill. Was she serious? A quill? Who still used those? "But you seem to have driven away the rest of the therapist staff. So they had no option but to try another approach."

She crossed her legs underneath her skirt, writing something quickly in the page of her clipboard. He decided right there that after he was done with this, he'll have a long talk with that Steve guy.

"And do not worry, I will not give you full emotional therapy. Your body will not be able to handle it well, so we can start in small doses-"

"Oh, I can _handle_ anything you throw at me." He interrupted, fiddling with the metal container between his fingers. "But we are not doing this."

The quill stopped moving, "Pardon?"

“Yeah, you see…” He rose from his seat, stepping into the coffee table to gain a higher ground and stare down at her. “I may be fucked up in many, many ways, _lady_.” Moving his foot up dramatically he started to walk around the table, tipping a flower vase and teapot to spill its contents into the rug and stomping into a plate of cookies. “I have mommy issues, daddy issues, trust issues and some _clearly_ crippling abandonment issues.” He placed the metal container in his pocket and started to count with his fingers. “I can’t manage my anger, I rush any relationship I have ever had to jump into anything sexual, I’m super childish and can’t hold a serious conversation or relationship. I tend to manipulate people to get what I want, I can be super narcissistic and any real connection I have ever had with another person has been broken by _yours truly_ because I just wanted something from them, and when they gave me what I wanted I threw them away like garbage.”

The green haired man did notice how she started to write everything he said, which prompted him to push her teacup off the edge of the table with the tip of his shoe, making it crash and splash at her feet. Plox stopped her writing yet again, raising her eyes to him and stared at him a bit annoyed, he smiled.

“But I’m not some pathetic _emotionless_ soul who needs kisses and cuddles to feel something again.”

She pushed the broken pieces of her teacup with her foot to the side, “That is not what emotional therapy is like, Mr. Beetlejuice.” He hated the way she pronounced the ‘Mr.’ in front of his name, like it actually gave her some _control_ over him.

“Whatever,” He dismissed, waving his hands and stepping off the table. “You can take all your emotional bull and blow it up that Stephan guy’s ass, cuz I ain’t doing shit.”

Tapping a finger against her knee, she bit her lower lip. “Do... you wish to try? To see if you can really _handle_ it.”

Now, that got his attention. Sitting back down to his spot, he didn’t even bother to formulate a response but gestured with his hand for her to start.

“You may start to experience sadness, do not feel alarmed. Just let it take over and pass through you.”

With her fingertips barely touching each other as she made a triangle with her hands, Phlox took a deep breath. Holding it for a couple of seconds before exhaling completely, a purple aura started to surround her, sending wave after wave of energy around her. The room felt significantly a bit cooler, the stomped flowers in the broken vase started to wither at a faster pace then normal and her skin started to gain a soft purple hue.

Then he felt the infamous nurse powers, which didn’t live up to the rumors.

It was barely a tickle, a soft touch that did nothing but raise a couple of goosebumps into his skin. He huffed through his nose, was this really emotional therapy? This was nothing! Was this how the whole session was going to go down? With her breathing over there in silence and leaving him alone with his thoughts. Sadness? The most he was feeling was annoyed and really itching for that ointment to kick in. Scratching the side of his neck, Beetlejuice did notice how the mood of the room turned more and more gloomy, he’ll give her that. Kind of a bummer that after all those rumors that nurses were dangerous forces to not be reckoned with they got him one of the weaker ones. If he wanted to feel like having a depressive episode he could just return to the surface and watch humanity pass by in front of his eyes with no one noticing his existence. How about reimagining how much better he could have had it if he wasn’t a greedy slob and just stayed a ghost haunting Lydia’s house with her instead of forcing her to marry him to regain some mere seconds of life. Or better yet, how about having an ear beat down by his mother about how he had achieved nothing in his life and even more nothing in his afterlife. He was worthless, a mistake, the roots of his arm hairs were starting to turn _purple_ and-

Okay, now he was out of here.

“And where do you think you are going?” The nurse asked, losing her concentration and breaking the depressive waves of energy that emitted from her. Glaring at him and raising from her seat. “The session has barely started! Please, return to your seat.”

He was halfway towards the door when he pressed his hand against his chest, looking offended by her statement. “Miss Phlox, how dare you _imply_ I’ll just get up and leave!” He grabbed the door handle, faking more indignation and making a small scene. “After all, someone in my poor, _weak_ condition and with such strong, capable guards constantly following me I can’t just-” His grip on the handle tightened, almost crushing the metal like a can and ripping it off the door as if the wood was simple tissue paper, “ _-escape_.”

It was funny how her eyes widened with realization of what just happened. Really, what did she expect? He did tell her right to her face that he tended to lie and manipulate. He laughed maniacally as he pushed the door wide open, hearing the guards already running up the hallway to them.

“Next time, don’t give the demon _Angel Tears_ to show you have a good, benevolent heart and get your patient to lower his guard and open up to you, doc.”

Phlox slapped her forehead, cursing her own foolish actions and hearing his laughter continue and fade into screams and fighting sounds, followed shortly by a small moment of silence. And just when the small glimmer of hope she had that the Angel Tears hadn’t had the time to work properly and the guards did manage to stop him, she heard his distinct gravely voice shout something about him having had sexual intercouse with somene’s husband and name calling them “cuck”.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, perceiving a headache coming closer. So much for trying a gentle approach, the other therapists did warn her about him and she knew he was going to be difficult. But using her full powers on him was crazy! She couldn’t do that, she doesn’t know what kind of reaction he could have, for all she knew he could end up a Wailing Soul for being exposed to those levels of emotions…

Stephen was not going to like this.


	3. Para todo mal mezcal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [ LivingSol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivingSol/pseuds/LivingSol) and to [ Blu_e907](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blu_e907/pseuds/Blu_e907) for helping me on this chapter! You guys are such life savers!

Maybe storming out of his last "therapy" session wasn't the best and most thought out decision he has _ever_ made. 

And maybe busting into Steve's office right after that was not the smartest follow up, considering that maybe that nurse ratted him out to security the second he left her floor.

Yes, he went up to that little bitch and scared the living shit out of him. Breaking the hinges off the door when be slammed them open, gave his secretary such a murderous look she just backed up until she stumbled against her own feet and fell down, walked right up to the desk that used to be his mother's and watched as he cowered and curled up in that big chair. It almost took out all the pleasure of seeing him be this close to peeing his pants since he was actually there to complain for once instead of being the one to be lectured about.

So when Beetlejuice sat down opposite to him, and spoke in an eerily calm voice, demanding an explanation for these new "methods" and changes that he wasn't made aware of beforehand, the man who replaced his mother took it as an opportunity to regain his composure and make hands signs to his secretary who just scrambled to her feet and ran out of the office.

He got a few seconds before she returned with an army of guards, so he made it quick.

The ex-demon raised his voice, booming and demanding, and pressed on for any kind of answer he could get out of that Stevie guy. The guy tried to dismiss him by making a really small conversation, buying time for security to come along before Beej did any kind of damage, but it came out as rushed, cowardly nonsense about mundane things to distract him. The man clearly didn't have the upper hand, and knew nothing about defending himself against someone who had a millennia of experience dealing with stronger ghosts.

Beetlejuice rolled his eyes before smashing his fist into the fancy desk, Steve jumped and rolled his chair back until it hit the windowed wall behind him, denting the cherry wood in the process and silencing the smaller man. He calmly told him to cut the bullshit, promised he was not going to hurt him if he just gave him an honest explanation as he picked the splinters off the side of his hand. Steven just sat there, hand clenching his non-beating heart in panic and gradually schooched his rolling chair closer to the table. Beetlejuice repeated his questions, patience running thinner and thinner by the second.

Stefan combed his hair with his hand, breathing in deeply to calm himself and smiled awkwardly. Began telling him the story that he already knew, that he was a difficult patient, that he made all the counselors he was assigned uncomfortable with his mean comments and sexual advances. The higher ups were not happy that he was apparently the only one who refused treatment in the new system and as an alternative method they assigned him a nurse, to see if maybe that brought better results. Beej scrunched his nose, making an indignated noise and retorted that he was no guinea pig for management to experiment on. Steve chuckled humorlessly, replying that he had no say in the matter, he was not escaping this situation until he successfully finished with the therapy and became a good non-demonic Netherworld citizen.

That pissed him off to no end, his small smirk at the end and his know-it all voice, the roots of his hair started to fade into an angry red. He was about to deck him square in his stupid baby face when suddenly four more of those big shit head guard busted into the room, ready to take him down. So he stopped himself in his tracks, fist millimeters away from his nose as the man in the chair closed his eyes and braced himself for the imentet impact. Blowing air through his nostrils in anger, Beetlejuice just proceeded to flick Stevie's nose as hard as he could without actually making too much damage and swiftly turned around with his hands in the air, presenting himself to be as non-threatening as possible. Stephan yelped in pain, grabbing his nose with both hands before he commanded the guards to have Beej escorted out of the building. The guards approached him, but he walked away first, making his way to leave the office and saying he knew the way out. Steve yelled once again, his voice sounding really nasally for still holding his nose with a hand, that he better be back here next week for the upcoming session or he'll send _more_ guards after him.

His threats did not fall to deaf ears but the man in the dirty pinstripe suit sure pretended it did. Grinding his teeth to hold in his frustration, he purposely bumped his shoulders roughly with a guard on his way out and thought of ways to get back at that little weasel or get answers out of someone else, whichever comes first.

And it seemed a solution for the latter one surfaced faster than he thought.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her, Stefan's secretary, the petite woman who ran for security as soon as he entered the office. Currently trying to calm down a full on panic attack behind one of the many dead potted plants that decorated the hallway by drinking a flask dry. She jittered as she screwed the lid back on and avoided making eye contact with him as he passed by. But what he did see was her take out another flask out of the inner pocket of her blazer and chug down its entire contents in one go.

Huh, an alcoholic, she could be useful.

\---

"Angel tears?! You gave him fuc- freaking _angel tears?!"_

While she appreciated that she was able to still maintain some kind of imposing aura of authority over Stephen for him to watch the language he used, she found it counterproductive to the fact that she was still getting lectured for failing her first therapy session with Beetlejuice.

"Well, you cannot bring me my patiences all beaten and bruised like that! How am I supposed to know if my powers are working properly on them or if maybe they are just emotional due to an adrenaline rush from fighting?"

Sitting on the chair that was still too small for her, Phlox watched her temporary boss pace around the wrecked office. The man kept on nervously combing his hair out of his face and barking out passive aggressive orders to the other ghosts who were fixing the broken doors and replacing the damaged furniture. He looked scared, as if the ghost with the most himself was going to bust into the room again any second and try to kill him again. It did surprise her to hear that Beetlejuice came directly to his office after their session instead of escaping to whatever hole he went to disappear for a week in before they found him again. So maybe they did cross an invisible line when they assigned her to him...

"This was a mistake," Her voice was full of disappointment and regret, she could already hear the whispers and gossips from the other nurses haunting her non-stop at the hospital. "I cannot provide him with the kind of help he needs, I am not a therapist."

He threw his hands into the air and stopped his pacing, "You already do give therapy! What the fu- heck are those powers of yours for then?!"

Okay, now it was her turn to be mad and exasperated, "As I told you before, they are for Wailing Souls! And last time I checked he was not one!"

"Yes, I know he's not!" He rasped through gritted teeth. "But you are now his nurse! So give him some _fucking_ therapy!"

"I am not that _kind_ of therapist!"

The groan of frustration that he released into the air sounded more animal-like than human, making the entire room silent. Every ghost that was working on repairing the office stopped dead in their tracks and exchanged awkward looks between them. Stephen snapped his fingers angrily and with a quick poof of smoke everything that was broken returned to its original shape, as if Beetlejuice had never been there. The new furniture was moved into the correct places, and the doors were back into their hinges. Every single piece of debri was off the floor and the office looked spotless, brand new and unlived. He then proceeded to shout for everyone but Phlox to get out of the room, and everyone immediately scrammed like rats who had been discovered in a kitchen. Leaving a very surprised nurse to only blink at what just happened and a frustrated man to drop into his big rolling chair.

After a few seconds of silence, she cleared her throat and admitted she did not _know_ he could do that. "Why have workers to do this kind of job when you can do it yourself?"

"Because they need jobs to keep themselves from turning into demons and I'm really trying to make the work hierarchy in this place more based on problem solving abilities than actual power." He responded rather dryly as he massaged the bridge of his nose. "I don't wanna turn into a power hungry _demon_ like Juno, at some point I would like to pass on too, y'know."

That got her thinking, "Then if you have some actual power... why not use that against Beetlejuice?"

"Do you seriously believe I didn't try that yet? Cause’ I have." He turned the chair to face her, grabbing the empty glass and swishing around the remaining ice that hadn't melted yet. "Even in his current situation, he's still stronger than me. Stronger than any ghost as a matter of fact."

He rose from the chair, walked to the small cabinet nearby that contained several bottles of wine and other types of alcohol, taking the glass with him. As he poured the caramel liquid into his glass he continued, "Not fully demon strong, that's for sure, but I'm not going to hire a demon _just_ to keep him in check. After Juno the higher ups are fed up with demons and want none of them working in here." He paused, offering her a drink of her own, which she declined. "She was in power for millenia and refused to step down or retire, they were actually quite happy she got eaten by that sandworm."

Phlox knew little to none about Juno, after all she only got to talk to her once and that was when she first became a nurse in the Netherworld. The hospital worked separately from the management, their only contact being the reports on the progress of their patients and the occasional interview with a random nurse to check on their well being. She did know that said woman had been in power for way too long and that she was the only demon who had made her way into such a position. Typically, demons don't like such corporate jobs, they like chaos, causing mischief and anarchy just for the sake of doing it. They are always looking for a way to rope in breathers and have them do their bidding, they love to have control over someone. Juno on the other hand, seemed uninterested in such things, but did sink her claws deep in her position of control over the management. She was a demon after all, she liked the power.

The first and only demon who got to work for the higher ups.

"You can never go easy on guys like him," Stephen continued, sitting back into his chair. "'Baby steps', 'gentle approach', that's not in his language. You have to show him you are the one with the upper hand in this situation, scare some respect into him."

That last sentence made her face contort in disagreement. In no way, shape or form was that a good tactic to get someone to open up to you. Sure it could be great to have Beetlejuice fear her, give him whatever therapy he needs and be done with him so she can return to her mundane afterlife helping Wailing Souls. But that just doesn't sit well with her, he needs to open up to her in his own terms for this to work correctly. It wouldn't feel right to just manipulate his emotions and have him basically brainwashed just to make management and the higher ups happy.

But on the other hand... maybe the scare some respect into him concept wasn't such a bad idea. Phlox really didn't make the best first impression, she really needs to step it up and show him who's boss.

Biting into her lip, she pondered for a few seconds before saying, "While I have to agree that maybe 'scaring some respect into him' may be the best first approach for now... I still hold my ground that we must be gentle and patient with him."

"What?" He snorted, putting the drink away from his mouth before he spilled it all over his lap. "You're kidding, right?"

Her poker face showed no sign of her changing her mind. Which just made him sigh and continue, "This is _Beetlejuice_ who we are talking about, that man does not understand gentle or patient. Didn't you see the state of my office? What he did to those guards?!"

"Yes, but he clearly has some trust issues. We need to be patient, change does not come from just a couple of sessions. And it definitely does not come from someone who is unwilling-"

The nurse stopped herself from rambling, seeing as it was quite obvious he wasn't seeing this from her point of view. Yes, Beetlejuice was a tough nut to crack, she discovered that the hard way, and he could easily see that her attempts to be nice were just to get him to lower his guard down. So maybe she just needed to not be nice, to woman up and be just as cruel as him.

"For the next session, I will triple the dosage of my power on him." As she states this, Stephen's eyes widen. More interested and pleased to see her taking his advice than following her moral code. "Maybe even quadruple it, I do not know how his reaction will be but I will try to take him over the limit."

"Now _that's_ what I want to hear!"

"Yes, but I would also need a couple of other things just to make sure it all works correctly."

\---

Finding the pattern of her work schedule was way easier than he thought.

She entered the building early in the morning, scrambled around many floors retrieving and delivering papers like some kind of carrier pigeon on speed, took a smoke break behind the back of the building with that beauty pageant receptionist, continued her day following around that fuckwad Stevie-he still refused to learn his correct name- like some lost puppy, exited the building in the evening with the rest of the ghost workers and walked all the way to her small apartment in the boring, suburban styled side of the Netherworld.

All while secretly drinking all of her many flasks, how many she could hold in her blazer pockets was still a mystery to him.

And he figured it all out in the quick span of four days.

It could have been done in a smaller time frame, but considering his powers were still lacking he took extra precautions. Transforming into small creatures to sneak around the building or even just to change his appearance to fool security took a lot more out of his stamina than before, so he had to do it carefully so as not to suddenly transform back and get exposed. He wasted about half of the Angel Tears he took from that nurse to speed up he process, but it was still painfully slow. It was frustrating and really tiring to know he could have done this in like a day if he had his original demon powers, but he had to take those measures, there was no other choice.

More reasons to be done with this place and get his powers back.

So yeah, Beetlejuice did some sleuthing around, found out her name was Dina- or Diane he wasn't sure- and that she was a crippling alcoholic. But given that she was only drinking that weak breather stuff, it seemed she was really trying to get herself to sober up. Emphasis on _trying_ , what she was doing was the equivalent of a chain smoker switching their six packs of cigarettes a day for six cartridges of gummy bear flavored nicotine vape. Not as strong, but _still_ indulging on the vice.

Which made the concocting of his plan to get information out of her oh so much easier.

Bumping into her on "accident" on her way from work to her apartment was the easy part, so was pretending he didn't basically stalk the petite woman all week and just happened to remember her from that one time he almost beat her boss into a pulp. Flirt a bit with her, make her uncomfortable, she tried to brush him off and really insisted that she needed to go home but here was the kicker: he invited her for a drink. Her eyes lit up in curiosity for a second, almost taking the bait automatically, but uncertainty took over and she started to refuse. Rambling about how she couldn't, how she was really trying to stop drinking and all that bullshit he was not buying it for a single second. Beej thought it would actually take him some more compelling arguments for her to accept his offer, like him paying for her drinks or getting her something stronger than that breather water, but with that she broke surprisingly fast. Curious of how in the world could he get her something that was stronger than normal alcohol, considering the stuff was never enough to satisfy a ghost. Following him into the dirtier, nosier, and more demon filled part of the Netherworld.

Dante's Inferno. A home away from home.

To be exact it's a titty bar filled to the brim with demons and the few curious ghosts who were tired of their stay in the Netherworld and just wanted a taste of what could be theirs if they decided to cross the line into demonhood. The music was always loud, the "special" rooms were always occupied by some succubi and their (un)lucky companion, some demons used this bar to catch themselves a ghost who they could turn into their slaves and for a lot of ghosts this was the place to forget they were even dead to begin with.

But a little known fact about this place, aside from their plethora of demon sex workers who were willing to do almost anything for the right price, was their alcohol. Their wide variety of really illegal sandworm spit laced licors.

It will slowly disintegrate your soul and erase you from existence as if you have been eaten by a sandworm itself, but it will also get you drunk and plastered better than anything else the entire Netherworld can offer you.

So after basically scamming a bottle of Mezcal off a really oblivious lesser demon bartender who he knew had a thing for him and getting the confused secretary to sit with him in a booth far away from the rest of the rowdy crowd, Beetlejuice started the fun part of his brilliant, genius plan.

Get her drunk off her ass until she spilled the beans.

And he’ll admit, she was a good drinker, it took about four shots of the poisoned stuff for the small woman to start to get tipsy. It got to a point that he started to fake drink his shots to keep himself sober enough to even go through with his plan. Shouldn’t have underestimated an alcoholic who has been starved off the hard stuff for who knows how many years.

She didn’t even know of this place, she couldn’t have been dead for too long.

“Oh my god, I hate him.” Diane -her name was definitely Diane, now he knew- complained, chugging what seemed to be her ninth shot glass. She was more of a layback, loud drunk. A really chatty one, which was something good for him at least. Talking shit on her boss and co-workers as if he was an old drinking buddie and not the guy who made her have a full on panic attack a few days prior. “He’s such a pompous ass, and he’s always talking about how he’s the next Jesus or some shit like that.”

“I hear ye.”

“It’s not like Stephen’s plans are bad, I think they are pretty good.” She confessed, making him eyeroll at the mention of the new system. “But if he kept his _messiah_ complex down, it would be great.”

Sliding a clawed finger around the rim of his forgotten shot glass of Mezcal, he didn’t bother to fake drink anymore cause’ at this point she was just taking full swigs out of the bottle, her blazer was off, the ponytail gone, and she was not noticing the fact that he was not even close to drunk status. Beetlejuice decided she was probably at that drunk stage where she’ll just answer whatever he asked.

Smiling rather sinisterly, he rested his head on his hands and said,“Hey _Didi_ , got a question fer ya.”

“I’m not gonna sleep with you.”

“What? _No_ , I wasn’t-”

“I mean sure, you got good tits but I usually like a _vagina_ to match.” She admitted, bringing the bottle to her lips and throwing her head back to drink it’s contents.

Patting his chest and feeling self-conscious about his body for a second, he shook it off and took her comment as a compliment. “Thanks.”

“Oh, oh, oh!” Swallowing the alcohol quickly, and fanning herself for doing it too fast, Diane slammed the bottle down and looked at him excitedly. “You know who has, like, the best rack in the whole building? Your nurse, Miss Phlox.”

Huh, well give it to her for bringing the nurse subject before him. He smirked knowingly, this sure made things way easier. “Got a thing for _big_ ladies, Didi-baby?”

“My god, she’s like super tall! And like super curvy!”

“She could smother you with those tights. Just sit on my face, Phlox.”

“Yeeessss pleaaaseee.” She giggled, placing her head on the table and letting her curly hair get on her face. “It’s not fair, you get to have your very own personal nurse to take care of you! Most of us don’t even get shit close to that. Heard from someone that a nurse can make you feel _euphoria_ just from their powers.”

Beetlejuice shrugged his shoulders, sipping his last shot slowly- hey, can’t waste good illegal alcohol like that. “Marry a mortal, die again, harass every therapist they give you and maybe, just _maybe,_ you’ll get a nurse of your very own.”

“That’s the thing! I think you’re just a special case…”

That raised his eyebrows quickly, “Whaddaya mean?”

Diane shifted in her spot on the booth, brushing the dark brown curls out of her face. “The higher ups don’t want you to become a demon anymore, they want you to stay a normal ghost,  poltergeist, or whatever the fuck you are right now and probably pass on too.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, really trying to keep the explosive anger that was bubbling inside him down to keep her talking. That was their plan, huh. Try to get him all soft and mellow with some therapy and get rid of him forever. “So, they know what happened to my powers.”

“Oh, they have no idea.” The giggles that came out of her were because she was genuinely drunk and not because she was being mean, but it was really hard not to get mad. “From what I heard, it should have been a hard _reset_ for you, but for some reason it didn’t work? I don’t know, the only one who knew about these kinds of things was Juno and she took those secrets with her to oblivion.”

Of course the only one who knew about his current state and if it had any chance of fixing was his now permanently dead mother. Just add another bullet point to the endless list of reasons why he hated her with every fiber of his being.

“And that’s why they gave her position to Stephen, cause’ that guy plans to pass on and not stay forever in power.”

Snorting, he laughed dryly. His mother was only a lesser demon when she managed to get that position, and even then she knew that giving it up was the most idiotic thing to ever cross her mind. “Yeah, like that fuck-o would let go of the opportunity of such a position for something as stupid as passing on.”

That made her rise from the table, straightening her back and glaring at him. “Hey! Passing on isn’t stupid! I _also_ want to pass on!”

“Yeah, you won’t be able to if you keep on drinking like that, sweetheart.”

She pouted angrily, drinking from the bottle again before slamming it down into the table and pointed an accusatory finger at him. “After this I swear I’ll get sober! I got that shitty job just to cut my punishment shorter!”

“Highly unlikely,” With the long nail of his pinky, he picked the gunk out of his yellow teeth while staring at her unmoved. “Working for the management won’t cut your punishment shorter, not when you keep on with those bad habits.” Beej paused for a second, looking at the gunk accumulated on his nail and licking it off. “Aaaand not after drinking half a bottle of sandworm spit laced mezcal that’s not only highly illegal but also only drank by demons. So better chip up and welcome demonhood with open arms, babes.”

“Fuck you.”

“You already rejected me, so I’ll keep my _good tits_ to myself, thank you.”

The frustrated sound that came from between her gritten teeth made him laugh, she was a fun one. Interesting when drunk, a nervous mess when sober. If he wasn’t currently using her for the only purpose of getting information that will help him solve his predicament, he would have love to hang out more with her.

But this was a one time thing, he uses them, he leaves them. That was always the plan.

“Y’know,” Her words were becoming more slurred, indicating she was close to passing out or vomiting. He hoped for the first one. “I’m actually surprised you have stayed in the Netherworld for this long.”

His amused expression furrowed within seconds, “Why would I leave? I’m dead.”

Diane dismissed his statement by just waving her hand sheepishly. “Oh please, you were dead before the whole mortal marriage thing and you spend decades as a demon on the surface doing who knows what… Looking for a mortal to take you, huh?” She chuckled, his scowl was slowly getting bigger and bigger.

“Yeah, but that’s when I was a demon. In case you forgot, I’m stuck in some weird limbo of not being a demon and not being a ghost at the same time.”

Grabbing the bottle by the neck, she clumsily tried to scooch her body to be closer to him, holding his shot glass steady against the table with her fingers and pouring some mezcal back in it. “That’s true, but I mean, you can probably become a demon again if you _leave_ the Netherworld.” 

Her glance moved from him back into her previous spot, she forgot her own shot glass. After a few seconds of struggling to reach it with her hand and failing, he took pity on her and snapped his fingers. Making the glass slide on its own towards her grasp with the little power he had left.

“The only reason why the guards keep on bringing you back to therapy is because they can find you in here.” She continued after muttering a small ‘thank you’ and started to fill her own glass with the poison. “I’m sure that if you escape to breather territory and hide for long enough they’ll eventually give up. They can’t do much out there.”

Small hands forced him to grab the shot, she even clincked her glass with his before drowning it down with ease. Beetlejuice just stared at her, mouth slightly open, unsure how to respond to such flawless logic. Yes, technically he could leave. Fooling the gatekeeper was nothing, he has done that before. Slowly become a demon again, find another dumb breather to say his name three times, be corporeal again, repeat the same plan he had been hatching since he could remember.

But he knew why he couldn’t.

A small snort broke him out of his trance, she was giggling against her hand. “What? Is there someone on the surface that you don’t want to see?” When his eyes grew in panic, she laughed harder, holding her stomach. “You know that they’ll eventually end up in here, right? Everything that _dies_ does.”

The grip on his shot got so strong that Beej actually started to crack the glass, spilling some of its precious liquid into his hand. He breathed in deeply through his nose, calculating how much strength it would take him to punch her out cold in a single blow without doing much damage that could incriminate him later. This bitch was unconsciously drawing some really close conclusions and he was gonna make sure she did not remember any single one of them.

To his luck, her head slammed down into the table before he could even make a fist. He blinked in confusion, nudging her with uncertainty with a finger. She had passed out, the alcohol and sandworm spit had saved him, once again. Running the hand that wasn’t occupied with the almost broken glass through his greasy hair, he sighed in relief.

Okay, even if it made his existence a bit easier to not have that conversation, it left him with an out cold female ghost in a pencil skirt in the middle of a demon bar. Miles away from her apartment.

In moments like this he really wished he had his powers back so he could just teleport her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again so much for your support!!

**Author's Note:**

> Soo this is how the story starts! Hopefully I'll have more chapters in the way soon, your comments and questions always help!


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